A little bit broken
by wolfypuppypiles
Summary: Peter dropped Liz's dad on the sand and groaned as every inch of his body screamed out in pain. He couldn't put any weight on his right leg, could barely move it, and his left arm hung limp at his side. His vision was nothing but blurred lights and black spots, and when his eyes closed of their own accord, he dropped to the sand and felt nothing. (Fixed movie ending)


Peter dropped Liz's dad on the sand and groaned as every inch of his body screamed out in pain. He couldn't put any weight on his right leg, could barely move it, and his left arm hung limp at his side.

His chest was burning, making it hard to breathe as fire raged around him.

He knew he had to get somewhere safe, to get help, but his vision was nothing but blurred lights and black spots, and when his eyes closed of their own accord, he dropped to the sand and felt nothing.

….

Voices. Heat. Pain.

And he knew that voice, it was comforting to him. Something like a dad but not quite.

"Peter? Can you hear me? I'm here, kid, you'll be okay, just don't move. Happy, get me a med team here, now! Jesus, this is all my fault. Peter, stay with me, come o-"

The voice fell away into darkness. Or maybe it was Peter that was falling.

He didn't know how long he'd been gone for, but when the real world came back, it came back fast.

He snapped back to consciousness so quickly it was like he'd never left it. Fires were being put out around him as people rushed around, some of them crowding around Peter, but all he could feel was pain and all he could hear was his own scream.

He sobbed, in agony, as hands gripped at his limbs, and stabbed his skin.

"P-please stop, it hurts!"

The sky above him was full of smoke, and he coughed painfully as he struggled to pull in more than shallow pants. Voices called out around him, quick and urgent.

"Get that line taped in, and strap his leg down, we can't have him moving it until we get some x-rays done. Peter, I need to stay calm and lay still. We're here to help, you'll be okay."

Straps pulled over his chest, rubbing against his bare chest, and pressing wires down. He hurt so much, and they were holding him down. There was something around his neck, preventing him from turning his head, and he didn't feel sand underneath him anymore, just something cold and hard.

He was scared and in pain and as much as he fought against the straps and hands holding him down, he couldn't move. Peter let out another sob as he slumped against the backboard he was held to.

"Be careful with him."

That voice again, it was Mr Stark. He was close by and Peter wanted to see him, to know that he was safe, but he couldn't find him.

Another voice, one he didn't know, started shouting as his eyes dropped.

"Don't fall asleep, kid! Keep your eyes open!"

But the blackness was creeping in again and he couldn't fight it.

….

Peter was moving, or rather, he was being moved. He wasn't fully aware of anything just yet. It was like being underwater, where the sounds are muffled and all you can see is blurry warped images of the world above.

Peter's eyes were closed, and he didn't have control over his body, but he felt it, and he felt the pain as well as the hands crowding over his skin.

Cool air hit his bare chest, as efficient fingers pressed into his sides and over his torso, making him hurt as voices jumbled together in a cacophony of sound that he wished would just go away.

"I need a CT and MRI done as soon as we have his shoulder in place and I want that leg strapped down until the scans come back. Mr Stark, you can wait in the-"

"I'm staying."

That was Tony. Peter would recognise that gruff tone anywhere, even with the other noises, his sluggish mind knew it.

The first voice was impatient. "We need room to work, if you'll just-"

"I'm not leaving him! I'll stay out of the way but I won't leave unless absolutely necessary. He's fifteen." The tone of his last words made his message clear. Peter was fifteen, he was too young, too young to be almost dying.

The other voice sighed, close to Peter's head, as something snaked under his nose, blowing cool air, and making it a little easier to breathe.

"Fine. Let's get his stats up before we move him, please."

There was too much going on, and so much pain, that when his senses began to darken, he didn't mind at all.

….

Tony watched as they put Peter back together. Strapping things down, and scanning things. Peter was lost under the sheer amount of tubes, wires, and braces, surrounding him. He didn't move at all, which was a blessing, but it made him look like a doll…or a corpse. The doctors and nurses moved him around as they needed, lifting arms, and pulling them back into place.

Peter's home-made suit was cut off and discarded, thrown to the side as they worked on him, but Tony couldn't watch it lay on the floor like garbage. He'd made fun of it when he first seen it, but it was so very Peter. The kid didn't have much, but he made things, and he made them well. The suit had been made lovingly, proudly, by the bright fifteen-year-old, and now it was nothing but rags.

The material was so thin, and thoroughly torn. It was the only thing that had stood between Peter's vulnerable body, and the metal that had pummelled into him. Tony picked the shredded suit off the floor and held it in his shaking hands.

When Tony had been designing Peter's suit, he had thought of and prepared for every possible scenario his over worried mind had come up with. But he hadn't been prepared for Peter to go after the vulture without it. God, what had he done?

….

Peter woke again. Woke was a strong word. He became aware.

Someone was crying, and Peter didn't like it. He thought he knew who it was, but the name wouldn't come to his syrupy mind. His thoughts were slow and sticky, and the more he tried to think the more confused he was. So, he just felt.

He felt a hand in his, soft slender fingers, as the person continued to sob, words coming out as a strangled mess.

"What happened to him? He was supposed to be at homecoming. Oh, Peter, baby."

There was a pause, like a held breath, and then another familiar voice, tone hard as if it were trying very hard not to shake.

"Peter left the dance to talk with me about the internship but our car was hit by another vehicle. I'm so sorry May."

Peter didn't remember any of that. The other voice came again, May, that's who it was; as a hand swept through his hair, brushing it back on his forehead in a way that made him feel just like he had when he was a kid, being looked after by his mother.

"Will he be okay?"

Tony, because that other voice had to be him, spoke once more. "Severe concussion, minor smoke inhalation, separated shoulder, four broken ribs, internal bleeding, torn ACL, and heavy bruising…well, everywhere."

It was clear he wasn't reading it from a chart, which meant he'd memorized every injury, and had no doubt blamed it on himself. His voice softened.

It'll take a lot of rehab for the knee but the surgery went well, and he's a tough kid, he'll be okay. I'll take care of everything, I have the best team of doctors in on this, you don't have to worry about any of it."

May sniffed again, hand leaving Peter's hair to stroke against his cheek instead. Peter was glad she was there. He felt safer than he had before, wherever he'd been. In truth, he couldn't remember much, but he didn't think he wanted to.

Her voice was sad and small. "He's all I have."

Footsteps echoed across a hard floor, and Tony's voice sounded closer, right next to May's.

"I know." Peter heard the words, but the tone didn't sound like "I know", it sounded more like "me too."

May lifted his limp hand, and planted a kiss against his knuckles, before she spoke again, voice wobbly and soaked in tears.

"Peter, baby, we're right here, okay? Everything's going to be all right, so you wake up now. Please honey, just open your eyes, or squeeze my hand. Let me know you're okay?"

Peter wanted to, he wanted to do anything to make his aunt sound happy again, but his body didn't feel like it belonged to him. He occupied it, sure, but he couldn't move, he couldn't wake up. He didn't feel like he was quite ready yet either.

Steady beeping continued as the two adults waited in silence for any sign that the teenager would wake.

Tony finally sighed and Peter felt a hand on his arm. "It's okay, Pete. We'll wait for you, as long as you need."

Thing's started drifting again after that, and Peter was glad he didn't have to hear May cry anymore.

Life became a series of aware moments with periods of darkness in between. Voices drifted in and out, some he knew, some he didn't. He ignored a lot of what they said.

"-ould come out of the coma soon, but you have to understand, the brain is a very difficult thing to predict. He was hit very hard. And we just don't know when he'll come out of it."

He thought Ned was there at some point, and maybe Michelle too, but he hadn't been able to focus on much. He thought he had heard Ned crying, and Michelle's voice was smaller then he'd ever heard it before.

"He looks so small." Usually something like that coming from Michelle would be an insult, but she sounded afraid.

Peter's body came back to him in parts. Like when he'd felt water dripping into his mouth. Someone was rubbing ice against his slightly parted lips, melting it just enough for the water to fall onto his parched tongue.

Or, when he felt his limbs being moved, stretched, and massaged as he lay limp.

After a while, he found he was able to move his fingers, just a twitch or a brief increase of pressure when someone held his hand. Their encouraging and excited voices would have made Peter smile if he had been able to.

Then all of a sudden, his eyes were open. He was blinking, before he'd realized he'd woken, and he saw himself for the first time.

He was in a bed, one arm strapped to his chest, as wires lay over him, IV's taped to his good arm, and a blanket pulled up to his waist, leaving his top half bare. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his legs. One of them was propped up on a pillow, with a huge brace encasing the limb.

He didn't know what was happening or why he was there.

Something tickled his nose, and he frowned further as he lifted a heavy hand, the one not strapped in a brace, to pull at whatever it was. Someone stopped him first, gently taking his hand and pressing it back to the bed.

"Leave that there, Pete. It's helping you." Tony's voice was so tired, as if it weren't the first time he'd said it, and Peter turned his head towards him, seeing him rubbing at his face from where he sat at the side of the bed. He blinked at him, watching as Tony's face turned into one of hope.

"Peter? Can you hear me?"

The teenager took a moment, mind still sluggish, but he managed a nod and squeezed Tony's fingers where they lay in his. The older man sat forward in his seat and smiled sounding excited.

"You gonna stay awake this time?"

Peter blinked heavily and didn't know what he meant by that, but nodded again. Tony smiled wider and quickly reached over to where May was asleep in her own chair, face pressed to Peter's good leg. She woke quickly, sitting up as Tony shook her shoulder, voice gravelly from sleep.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Tony pointed to the kid in the bed and May froze, her eyes were huge as she watched Peter blinking at her. She reached for his face, soft hands brushing over his cheeks, being careful to avoid the nasal cannula still providing him oxygen.

"Peter? Baby, do you know who I am?"

She looked so hopeful, but also scared, like she might not get what she wanted so badly. Peter felt his mouth twitch into what he hoped was a smile. It was hard to find words, and harder to make his mouth move to form them, but when he did she smiled like she'd just won the lottery.

"May." The short syllable was as slurred as it could be for just three letters, but she laughed anyway, surging forward to press kisses all over his face.

"Oh my god, you're back. You're really, okay." She sat back, watching him, and brushing his hair back with one hand as he blinked at her with those bright eyes she loved more than anything else in the world.

"You kept opening your eyes, but you wouldn't respond to anything, it was like you were gone. We were so worried, we thought- God, Peter, don't ever do that to me again."

Her words began to wobble and tilt, and Peter frowned, not wanting her to be sad as he pushed one melted word from his clumsy mouth.

"Sorry."

May's eyes filled with tears, and she held Peter's face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she began to cry again.

"Oh, honey, it's okay. It's all okay now, you're here and that's all that matters. You came back to me."

Peter didn't want to see her cry, Tony put an arm around her shoulders and she fell into his chest as he hugged her. It had a familiarity to it, like they'd done it more than once before.

They looked like they'd been through a lot, or he supposed he had. But as long as they were together, they'd be just fine.


End file.
